


All the Madness in My Soul

by missm0neypenny



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Loneliness, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm0neypenny/pseuds/missm0neypenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She knew she didn't fit in but she couldn't imagine any place she would. So she stayed, mis-fit."</p><p>Written in response to the LJ rennerobsession Pic-Fic Challenge from 5/10/13. This is a work of fiction inspired by a photograph. The characters are fictional and not based on any real people.</p><p>Thanks to Bruce Springsteen for the title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Madness in My Soul

She had never fit in to this small prairie community. When girls in school whispered about boys, she focused on her classes. When her few friends found sweaty-palmed farmers eager to turn them into wives, she went to college. When her parents died and everyone expected her to marry her widower neighbor, she sold the farm and bought herself a bungalow in town. She kept to herself, tending her garden and working at the library. Occasionally she wrote letters-to-the-editor of the local paper; long, thoughtful essays about society that made people shake their heads in confusion. Some women worried she would seduce their husbands. A few gossips speculated over lemonade that she was a lesbian. Her “otherness” offended their sensibilities and they were uncomfortable with how it titillated them.

She knew she didn't fit in but she couldn't imagine any place she would. So she stayed, mis-fit.

***

When he moved to town, the single women campaigned hard for his attention but never received it. No one knew his story – he had been in The War but he never spoke of it. He said he came from “back East” but offered no details. He didn't join the men's civic groups, didn't attend church, hardly seemed a part of the community at all. After a few years, his novelty wore off and, aside from occasionally seeing him eating alone in the diner, people stopped thinking about him. Which was what he wanted all along.

***

Once he came into the library to study mechanical textbooks. He was polite, nodding his “hello” and “goodbye,” not lingering at the circulation desk like some of the married men.

When she saw him a week later, riding his motorcycle, she smiled in satisfaction that her library had been helpful.

***

One summer night he escaped the heat of his apartment by taking his bike for a spin. He cruised the empty streets, enjoying the privacy.

He was surprised to see her house glowing with light. It was long past midnight. He slowed to a crawl and saw her in her kitchen, arms in the air, head thrown back, hips swaying to music he couldn't hear. Back at home, he fiddled with his radio until he caught the far-off broadcast of rhythm-and-blues. He lay in the heat, listening to the soulful singers and thinking of the secrets she must keep inside.

***

By late August every year, she grew bored of her garden. The steady supply of tomatoes lost its charm and weeding became just another chore. Soon, she would abandon the endeavor, letting the fruit rot on the vine and calling the blooming weeds “wildflowers.” For now, though, she knelt in the dirt, yanking the invaders ruthlessly.

She heard his motorcycle coming up the road and forced herself not to stare hungrily. When he stopped at her gate, she looked up in surprise and smiled a greeting.

He said nothing, merely leaned over his handlebars, looking at her intently. A moment before she felt awkward, he nodded to the seat behind him. She hesitated and he thought she would refuse. But then she threw down her spade, stood, and left her yard. She straddled the bike and eased onto the seat. She was reluctant to put her dirt-streaked hands on his pristine shirt but he reached back and wrapped her arms around his torso.

He turned onto the country roads bisecting the cornfields. She fitted her chin onto his shoulder. He pressed his back against her chest. The wind swirled around them and cocooned them in their shared solitude.

 


End file.
